The night was still, the broken temple bathed in the pale gold of sunrise.
Tamayo knelt amid the scattered remnants of the battle. Her hands trembled—not out of fear, but out of guilt. The scent of blood still clung to the air, but Muzan was gone… and she was still here.
Yoriichi turned to leave.
But her voice broke through the silence.
"Wait… please…"
He stopped.
Tamayo's face was wet with tears. Her voice quivered as she spoke.
"I… I was forced. Turned against my will. Muzan… he used me. Controlled me. Every life I took… it wasn't by choice. But the blood is still on my hands…"
Her forehead touched the ground in a deep bow.
"If you must strike me down, then do it. I will not run."
For a long moment, Yoriichi said nothing.
Then, he stepped forward—his expression calm, his golden eyes softened not by pity, but understanding.
"I was never going to harm you."
Tamayo slowly raised her head, eyes wide in disbelief.
"You chose remorse over indulgence. That is more strength than most can ever claim."
He sheathed his blade and turned toward the morning light.
"Live, Tamayo."
"Why?" she asked, voice cracking. "After everything…"
Yoriichi's answer was quiet, but certain.
"Because you will be the one to turn the tide one day."
"You'll be there when it matters most. When humanity forgets me... you'll still be there. Guiding them in your own way."
Tamayo stared as the man began to walk away, his silhouette glowing in the sunrise—tired, burdened, yet unwavering.
In that moment, something took root in her heart.
Not vengeance.
Not hate.
But hope.